


A Night In

by Hella_Queer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Shiro, M/M, Trans Keith (Voltron), and they were ROOMMATES, mix of afab and amab language, nonbinary author, tipsy Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hella_Queer/pseuds/Hella_Queer
Summary: Shiro strikes out at the bar, but that doesn’t mean he’s ending the night alone.





	A Night In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Insomne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomne/gifts).



> A very belated birthday gift for the wonderful Nico!

It’s been a while since he’s hooked up with anyone and he’s a little bit tipsy after striking out at the bar. He strips off his shirt the second he’s inside his apartment, tossing it on the couch. His shoes, socks, and belt follow, making a trail to his bedroom. He shakes his jeans off his hips when he’s outside his roommate’s room, hearing music from the other side but not noticing the door is cracked.

He stops in front of the full length mirror in the hallway between their rooms, looking himself over. Sober Shiro would watch a movie with his roommate, or hit the gym to get rid of his restless energy. Drunk Shiro would destroy the fridge and make as much food as he could before passing out at the table. But tipsy Shiro?

He runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it up, tugging on it. He turns this way and that, tracing the curves of his body with his eyes. He watches in a trance as his own hands run up his stomach to his chest, squeezing this side of too hard. He bites his lip as he pinches his nipples, teasing and pulling until they’re nice and hard. He wants someone to bite them, to rub and cup and bruise his chest so that when he showers at the gym tomorrow other people stop and stare. 

His hands stroke back down to the bulge in his boxers. He runs his fingers up and down the outline of his shaft, keeping the pressure too light, teasing. He had grinded against so many people at the club, rolled his hips and clutched at shoulders and licked into sweet tasting mouths, all the while holding back all of his needy sounds. 

He’s half hard as he finally stumbles into his room, his door hardly closing as he rushes to get his boxers off.

He falls into bed and crawls on hands and knees to his bedside drawer, then decides to stay that way. He spills more lube onto his sheets that he wants to, but he’s too keyed up to care. He spreads his knees wider and reaches back to rub slick fingers over his hole. He wishes he had more hands to spread himself open, to hold his hips and rub up against him. 

Shiro sighs as the first finger sinks in, a second quick to follow. He _really_ wanted to score tonight. He was pent up from work, easily irritated and cranky, and all he wanted was to get fucked into a mattress, it didn’t have to be his own. He’d happily take a wall against his face, the edge of a table pressing against his stomach. His cheek pressed to the floor or the leather seat of a cheery red motorcycle. 

Shiro rocks back onto his fingers, little needy grunts escaping his lips. He can’t go hard like he wants to, the angle not enough, his fingers not enough. His cock bobs between his legs but he isn’t focused on getting off. Not now. 

Down the hall the music stops.

Shiro flips onto his back and props his feet up, legs splayed wide, the left almost slipping off. He digs his fingers into the meat of his thigh, three fingers working slowly to stretch him out for no one. He looks up at the ceiling, licking his lips, tasting the strawberry and pineapple of his last drink. 

“Please,” he groans, free hand cupping and squeezing his chest. He imagines teeth sinking into the plush flesh and shivers, curling his fingers. “ _God_ , please fuck me.” 

A shadow crosses in front of his door, but he doesn’t notice until a familiar rough voice speaks up. 

“Hey.”

Shiro stops moving, lowering his gaze to the figure in his doorway. 

“Hey.”

Sharp eyes roam over his body, caressing the dips and curves of his chest, his hips, the muscles jumping in his thighs. Shiro’s fingers twitch inside of him, and he can’t help but move down onto them. Keith bites his lip, fingers curling around the doorframe. He’s wearing one of Shiro’s tank tops and nothing else. 

“Thought you brought someone home,” Keith muses, stepping into his room. Shiro curls his fingers and his hips give a wild jerk, prompting him to thrust them in harder. “Saw the clothes in the hall.”

Shiro doesn’t mean to whine, he’s not that far gone, but Keith is so close too fast, fingers caressing his calf, his knee, his thigh. He’s not a stranger to those hands, far from it. 

“Nobody wanted me tonight,” he says, forgetting to make it sound like a joke. Keith hums, hand traveling up Shiro’s sternum until long, strong fingers curl around his neck. When they kiss it’s slow and warm, Keith swallowing all of Shiro’s sighs and moans. 

“What do you need?” Keith murmurs against his cheek, lips warm and damp. This close Shiro can smell his shampoo, the soap he used, and a delighted thrill runs through him when he recognizes his own scent. It was nice to know Keith wanted to smell like him, too. 

Shiro slips his hands under Keith’s shirt and squeezes his waist, hands climbing higher and higher until Keith is arching his chest into his touch, nipples hard against his palms. 

“Fuck me?” He knows how much Keith loves holding him down and pushing his face into the sheets, the way his eyes seem to sparkle whenever he makes Shiro work for it, waits him out until he melts and goes warm and pliant on his fingers. 

But Shiro doesn’t want to wrestle tonight, and Keith, wonderful beautiful sexy Keith, knows this. He’s always been good at reading him. 

“Make me come,” he coos, crawling further up his body until he’s hovering over Shiro’s face. “Then I’ll fuck you.” 

Shiro is more than happy with this arrangement. 

He’s wet, _really_ wet, and Shiro spends a good minute or two licking his thighs clean. Keith fists a hand in his hair and guides him closer, his other hand cupping the back of his neck. Shiro melts at the first real taste of him, heady and sweet, hands sliding up the back of Keith’s thighs, slipping between the curve of his ass, lower, until his fingers are absolutely coated in Keith’s slick.

Shiro doesn’t know who moans louder when he finally wraps his lips around Keith’s dick. He sucks lightly, swirls his tongue around the hard nub, rocking his hips up against air with ever sigh and sound his roommate makes. He loves eating Keith out, loves being able to crack his hard candy shell to reach the soft center. He dips the tip of his tongue into his hole and is rewarded with a groan and a sharp tug on his hair. 

“C’mon, Shiro, be good.” 

Shiro whines, all too eager to please, and holds Keith steady with a hand on the small of his back as he works his mouth in earnest. Keith takes two of his fingers like a dream and squeezes around them as Shiro crooks them forward, fast and rough just how he likes it. 

Keith jerks above him, legs trying to close around his head. Shiro doesn’t let up, keeping him mostly still while he fucks him with his fingers, until Keith gasps and bucks his hips, grinding down hard a few times before slumping down and catching himself with shaky hands. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost a laugh, as he shimmies back down to straddling Shiro’s hips. Shiro licks his lips, chasing the taste of him, wishing he was more sober so he could—

“Keith!”

It takes all of his willpower not to come when Keith grinds down on his cock, the head of his shaft dipping into his hole briefly before Keith sits back again. He knows how hot he is inside, how his pussy soaks his cock when he teases him for hours on end. He knows how hard he comes when Keith teases him back, breathy little moans begging him to _come inside, want it so bad please Takash_. The very thought of Keith riding him into the mattress is enough to stick his tongue to the roof of his mouth. 

“ _Keith._ You promised.” Because he had, and as much as Shiro would like to fuck Keith until he ruins his sheets, his plans for tonight still haven’t changed. Keith takes pity on him, tapping his cheek twice before climbing off of him and heading back to his room, hips swaying in the hypnotizing way that they do. 

By the time Keith returns, harness secured around his hips, Shiro has two sloppy wet fingers fucking in and out of his ass and a hand around his cock, squeezing tight around the base. Like he doesn’t wanna come, like all he wants is the stretch and the burn and the aching soreness that makes it hard to concentrate the next day.

Keith is on him in seconds, rolling him onto his front. “I love your ass,” he groans. “Show it off for me.”

Shiro scrambles to get his knees under him, reaching back to spread himself open. The tip of Keith’s strap rubs against his slick hole, and he _knows_ already which one it is. It’s the one close in size to his own, the one Keith ordered after getting him hard and taking (pretty extensive) measurements. Shiro can’t help but squirm, anticipation lighting up his nerves. He’s leaking precome so steadily that Keith lets it drip onto his fingers, used it to slick up the head of his dick before slowly working it inside. 

It’s easier than usual, what with all the lube Shiro has worked up inside, but still—

“You’re so big,” Keith moans, and Shiro can’t breathe. 

He rocks back, thighs trembling, Keith’s raspy voice crossing the wires in his brain. He digs his fingers into his hips and thrusts forward, hard, gasping when Shiro cries out. 

“ _Fuck!_ “

Keith doesn’t give him time to catch his breath. He wraps a hand around the back of his neck and shoves him face first into the sheets, driving into him with his other hand digging into the meat of his ass. Shiro doesn’t get to feel this full all the time, doesn’t get to be split open and fucked hard enough to shake the bed. He clings to the sheets, every inhale a gasp and every exhale a groan or a whimper. 

And it’s fucking _perfect_.

“God, look at you.” Keith’s hand glides around to rub his knuckles up against Shiro’s stomach. Can you feel me here, baby?” 

Shiro chokes, bouncing back onto Keith’s dick with garbled, whining pleas. He can’t feel it in this position but he knows what it looks like on Keith, knows that if Keith bent him in half on his back he’d see the imprint of his dick in his stomach. The thought has him shaking so hard he can’t even think about holding himself up. 

“So full,” Keith murmurs in his ear, getting a hand around Shiro’s cock. “C’mon, Shiro, give it to me.”

Shiro comes with a shout, Keith’s name wrapped in a curse. He ruts against the mattress as he rides it out, chasing the feeling until he’s over sensitive and raw and weak limbed. Warm satisfaction leaves him panting and moaning quietly, twitching when Keith pulls out. The bed dips as Keith leaves to do...something. Shiro is a bit too out of it to track his movements. But he’s back before Shiro can miss him, crawling into bed with a quiet chuckle. 

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.”

He doesn’t have the strength to roll over just yet, but he rubs his foot against Keith’s ankle, the warm weight on his back grounding. If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t tried very hard to get a date tonight. Sometimes he just liked to dance, to flirt with no strings attached. Sometimes he wanted that needy, aroused energy to follow him for the rest of the night. And sometimes…

Keith kisses the back of his neck, his shoulders, curling up on top of him with a mumbled reminder for a shower and water. Shiro knows they’re going to fall asleep in the next ten minutes, not even bothering to move out of the wet spot. He smiles into the pillow. 

Sometimes he just wanted this.

**Author's Note:**

> Still learning how to write trans male characters. If you have any tips or constructive critism, leave a comment or hit up my curious cat over on my Twitter @majorinsarcasm


End file.
